Say Yes to Everything Sunday, or, sometimes half a mountain is all you need
This past Sunday about half of our PCTs decided to hike Panderman Mountain, a nearby mountain in Batu. It was reportedly a six hour hike, in total, up and down. I was on the fence about committing to the hike all week- we’ve been in our practicum schools while also attending Bahasa Indonesia classes in the afternoon, and there was a wedding in front of my house Saturday night that was guaranteed to rage on until two in the morning, speaker system set to full, poorly balanced, blast. (Really, what is wrong with Indonesians and their desire to BLAST poorly tuned stereo equipment at weddings, inside grocery stores, or from cars? It’s an audiophiles worst nightmare. It’s one of the few things I really resent about Indonesian culture because IT JUST DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. IT DOESN’T SOUND GOOD, INDONESIA. IT HURTS YOUR EARS).
Maaf, tangent. I was waffling back and forth until I decided to call upon my 2011 mantra of last year: Say Yes to Everything. I like to use this mantra to force me to do things, when I’d rather lie in bed all Sunday and take advantage of the recently discovered electrical outlet and watch movies until I’m in an English language stupor. 2011 was a good year, and Say Yes to Everything never led me astray. And hiking tropical island mountains is the type of thing you imagine as a Peace Corps Invitee packing for the grand adventure. That and, you know, helping people. (My other imaginings included being present for a home birth (still hopeful) and being part of a ceremonial animal slaughter (guaranteed)). Late Saturday I finally committed and was looking forward to a fun! and challenging! but ultimately rewarding! hike. Just kidding it was awful and I hated myself for agreeing to it. Until I was really glad that I did it.
The hike up was really hard. I’ve nearly blocked it out, the way mothers’ insist that they can’t remember the pain of childbirth because of the joy of having their child in their arms. In my case, the joy was the hike being over. I don’t think I should have to defend my unenjoyment of hiking mountains, but I would just like to say that some people derive great satisfaction and accomplishment from physical challenges. I do, if that physical challenge involves Nordstrom’s Semi Annual sale, or maybe hot yoga. Or walking the entire length of North Carsons Street in Pittsburgh while wearing five inch heels in the middle of winter. Those are things I can get behind, enjoy, and feel accomplished after finishing. Hiking steep mountains brings no pleasure to me. I can’t enjoy the views because I’m too busy having an anxiety attack that something venomous will bite me or I’ll slip and break my ankle, and I obsessively mentally size up my hiking mates wondering who could make me a temporary splint and carry me to safety. Not that safety means anything in Indonesia, where eight year olds regularly drive motorcycles.
Besides my constant worst case scenario panic, I greatly overestimated my own capabilities in the trekking up the side of a mountain department. My physical fitness was maybe on par with the thirty year old cultural facilitator who smoked five cigarettes during our ascent, and rides his motorcycle anywhere more than five minutes away. All the CFs were complete dolls, of course, as I whined my way up the side of the mountain. My CF, Ido, was completely babying me and kept trying to carry my backpack for me (he and my ibu could make a club for “Emily is Incompetent Believers”). And when we got to the checkpoint and they told me it was only half way, they prevented me from throwing myself off the side of the mountain. It was then that I decided that half a mountain was plenty of mountain for me. One of the CFs, Heru, and I hung out at the checkpoint for about an hour- I got to listen to Neutral Milk Hotel and The Decemberists while looking at some spectacular views. I’m pretty certain that I’m the only person to get to say that. Heru and I discussed one of my favorite topics, education availability and affordability in our respective countries while chilling on some rocks. Then we happened to bump into two of his friends from Malang, who hike Panderman every Sunday, and we hung out and ate some white bread slices (of course) and headed back down the mountain. The walk down was fantastic. I was only mildly panicked about falling, I could enjoy the serious lushness of my surroundings, and also, uh, so much easier. Heru and I walked back a different way and wove through a series of mountain villages, which I really enjoyed. And then, Heru insisted we should buy ice cream. He is a man after my own heart. We caught up with his friends again (they had ridden their motorcycles down to the main street) and ate Nasi Pecel (rice, stewed greens, spicy peanut sauce). Heru even shared his fried egg with me.
I’m glad I listened to myself and called it satisfied at half a mountain. I spent twenty minutes at the checkpoint battling between feeling like a slacker for not finishing (type A complex), and being real with myself that I wasn’t actually enjoying the uphill battle at all- and that’s totally fine. Don’t have to be good at everything, don’t have to like everything. By the time I got home, I was filthy and ready for the best mandi of my life. I got a fair share of sun “shine”, but I look much better than some of PCTs who are covered in bug bites and scratches or walking with twisted ankles.
In the theme of Say Yes to Everything Sunday, I also tried durian, this mysterious fruit that I have smelled from afar (think rotting fruit smell. That’s natural for durian). It’s a soft, pulpy fruit inside a spiky, hard rind. And I did not care for it. Truly the first time Say Yes to Everything has disappointed me. I was squatting on the floor with my ibu, making horrible faces and repeating, tidak suka tidak suka as I tried to choke down a piece. It was similar to my experience with Cheez Its, if you’ve ever seen me drawn to them (like a moth to a cheezy flame) only to be utterly repulsed once I tasted one. Every time I hope I’ll actually like them. I wanted to like the durian, as if it would be some physical manifestation of my integration into Indonesia. Sadly, durian and I are not meant to be. Durian and challenging mountain hikes will be on the shelf until further notice.